


Never doing that again

by m_findlow



Category: Torchwood
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-08
Updated: 2018-04-08
Packaged: 2019-04-19 23:55:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 835
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14248569
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/m_findlow/pseuds/m_findlow
Summary: Sometimes not knowing is for the best





	Never doing that again

**Author's Note:**

> Written for juliet316's prompt "any, any, you threw up in someones recycling bin and left a note apologizing. how drunk do you think you were?!" at fic_promptly

Ianto's head felt like it was stuffed full of cotton wool and trapped in a vice all at the same time.  
What had happened, and where was he?

Without opening his eyes he tried to take in whatever information he could. It was hisTorchwood training kicking in automatically. He was lying down for starters, and it was soft and warm. That boded well. He tried moving his head to the side but that caused even more pain and a nauseating feeling. Instead he opted to stretching his arm outwards. Yep, definitely a bed, as his arm brushed rumpled sheets. They were still warm as well. He breathed in slowly, it seemed to be the only part of him that wasn't blocked or felt full or throbbing with pain. In came the gentle scent that was so familiar, shampoo and some distinctively 51st century pheromones. This was his bed, so this was his flat. Well, that was a relief.

He cracked an eyelid open against the pale grey morning light, but to his eyes it felt like a million watts and he quickly shut them again, groaning. He couldn't remember ever feeling this rubbish. Was he sick? Not that he knew of. More troubling was how he'd gotten here. He couldn't remember. Had he been retconned maybe. 

Before he could ponder the possibilities in his aching head, he felt the bed dip downwards as someone sat on the edge.

'How're you feeling?' asked Jack.

Ianto tried rolling over to face the voice and everything began spinning wildly. He groaned again and curled up into a ball on his side, eyes clenched tightly shut.

'That good, huh?' Jack replied, gently raking a hand through Ianto's hair.

When the wave of dizziness dissipated sufficiently, Ianto managed to mumble a few words. 'What happened?'

'You don't remember?' Jack said, still stroking his hair.

Ianto tried to clear the fuzziness from his head and moved to sit up as another wave of crippling nausea hit him.

'Easy,' said Jack, gently helping him to sit up a little. He found a glass pressed to his lips and slowly sipped at the cool contents that washed away the furry feeling in his mouth. 'Better?'

'Too loud,' Ianto moaned.

Jack smiled and lowered his voice to just above a whisper. 'Do you remember bowling last night?'

Ianto paused for a moment. Yes he did. Torchwood bowling night. Him and Jack, versus Owen and Tosh, versus Gwen and Rhys. Gwen and Rhys had put up a valiant fight, but Jack and Ianto had come home with the goods. 'Mmm hmm,' he replied, his own voice echoing loudly around his skull.

'And then?'

'Then?' Ianto thought hard. That's when it hit him. The trip to the pub afterward. He knew how he was feeling now, even though it had been years. This was hungover. 'You got me drunk?' Ianto queried.

'No, you got you drunk. Decent effort too. If I'd been trying you almost could've drunk both me and Owen under the table.'

'How'd we get home?'

'Walked.'

Ianto thought about this before replying. 'S'long way.'

'It is,' Jack replied, 'thought it might sober you up a bit.'

'Was I that bad?'

Jack couldn't help but laugh even as Ianto cringed at the volume of it. 'You threw up in someone's recycling bin and left a note apologising. How drunk do you think you were?!'

'Oh god,' Ianto moaned, flopping back onto the pillow. It was singularly mortifying. Jack resumed stroking his head, but was interrupted when Ianto to turned back to face him. 'Hang on, where did I get paper to leave them a note?'

Jack chuckled again. 'Oh, Jones, Ianto Jones, even you mange to amaze me sometimes. You insisted we find a convenience store to buy paper and return to the scene of the crime.'

Dear God, he thought, I really was very drunk. 'Why didn't you stop me?'

'I was a little tipsy myself so I just went with it. It was fun. Besides, it made for a hilarious story to torment you with now.'

'I hate you sometimes,' Ianto grumbled, pulling the doona back over his head.

Jack pulled the doona back and kissed him on the head. 'You can hate me while you take the day and sleep it off.'

Ianto was grateful that at least he wouldn't have to face a day of cleaning, filing and making coffee with the monster headache from hell. 'You're going to tell the others, aren't you?'

'Would I do that?' Jack asked innocently.

'Yes,' Ianto sulked. Of course he bloody would.

Jack leaned down again and whispered softly in his ear. 'I'd rather wait til you're back at work, and then we can share all the details together.'

As Jack made his way out of the bedroom he was pelted in the head with a pillow. The sudden movement caused Ianto to nearly keel over with nausea but he deemed it worth the effort. Jack would be on decaf for a month.


End file.
